Silent Night Oh Precious Night
by Keep.Film.Alive
Summary: Post Reichenbach. John's nightmares come back when Sherlock does. As they grow more and more violent, Sherlock is forced to resort to tricking John into taking a drug. He really did mean well this time...


Title: Silent Night Oh Precious Night

Pairing: John Watson and Sherlock Holmes

Fandom: Sherlock BBC

Rating: T

Notes: This was whipped up pretty fast, I'm using the wifi at DQ and it's closing soon so I was in a bit of a rush. I'll revise shortly.

**Please review!**

When Sherlock came back, so did the nightmares. You could always count on them being one of two themes: Something to do with Sherlock dead or something to do with the war. Occasionally, the black hound with red eyes would jump in and rip his dear friend to shreds while he could only watch in pure unsaturated horror. John wasn't sure why they followed with his returned flat mate, and to be completely honest with himself, Sherlock didn't understand either. This greatly unsettled the both of them. What pushed Sherlock even closer to this unfamiliar feeling of thorough confusion was that as time passed, the nightmares grew more violent, or at least John's reaction to them in his sleep.

It started off as nothing at all, he had the nightmares, but John made no physical indication. Within a week, he had begun to kick and roll around, groaning every so often. Another few days passed, he was mumbling now, the occasional jolt and whimper. Another week, he was louder, the thrashing had become less violent but the crying and whispering incoherently remained so. About a month had passed, and finally, Sherlock couldn't take anymore. It became routine. Almost every other morning, around 4:47 AM, he'd pick up his bow and violin, calmly playing an Irish tune, The Briar and The Rose, that John seemed to respond to compliantly after a loud and deeply disturbing cry cracked through the still air in 221B.

"I made you tea." John stared down at the cup and resisted the urge to slap the damned thing out of Sherlock's hand. The nightmares and lack of sleep left John so irratable.

"Do you honestly," he said slowly, "think I'm that beneath you? Do you honestly believe that I'm foolish enough to fall for this ag-"

"It is drugged." Sherlock claimed plainly. John gave him a cautious look. "It's not an experiment, I'm not trying to use or manipulate you for my own amusement. The drug is a tranquilizer of sorts, it is legal and I've heard and experienced nothing but positive results. It will not simply knock you unconscious, how can I put this It is a sleep aid that also calms your mind to the point where it cannot produce dreams or nightmares. Of course it is still possible to have a dream but I experienced no dreaming when I tried it for myself. In fact, I may begin to use it on a nightly basis, my mind is constantly buzzing, analyzing, processing, deducing, explaining, breaking down to an almost impossible level, and you've always been on me about getting proper rest. And judging by the look on your face, you're still not sure, so here," Sherlock sets the cup down on the table and goes back into the kitchen. He shortly returns with a brewing cup of tea for himself and pulls the drug out of his pyjama pocket. It's liquid, clear, Sherlock lets John inspect the label and pours the proper amount into his own cup. "We'll drink it together."

John sighs and curls up on the sofa. He eyes the cup on the table curiously and shakes his head, running his hands over his face. Sherlock sets his cup on the table as well, walks back to his room and returns with his blanket and two pillows. "We can sleep on the couch together. You like cuddling."

"Listen, Sherlock, this is surprisingly sweet, I have to admit, in your own um, way, but I'm just not sure about this. None of the other sleep aids I've taken have worked, I don't see why this will either. I just, I don't know." Sherlock tosses the pillows on John. The lights switch off and shortly after the light from the telly is the only thing illuminating the room. John sighs when Sherlock is handing him one of the cups and covering them both with the blanket. He reluctantly takes the cup, Sherlock picks up the other cup and goes right in for a drink, John almost says something but bites it back. It really was kind for Sherlock to do this, though he thinks that Sherlock is probably tired of his thrashing and crying about when they actually sleep in the same bed. Oh. Hm.

It's late now, John took the drink and is now sprawled on the couch asleep with Sherlock laying over him, arms hooked loosely around each other. Sherlock tilts his head up when he hears John snore. John never snores. This is a good sign? Maybe. Sherlock half expected it but was happy still when John hadn't noticed the switch. Sherlock grinned to himself, the plan was simple enough and it worked- for now.

'Offer John the cup with no drug- Tell him it is drugged- He refuses- Explain how drug works, explain that I used it myself- He wavers- Leave cup on table- Go to kitchen and get a new cup- Let him see me put the drug in my own cup- Get pillows and blanket- Shut off the light- Pick up the drugged cup and turn on the telly- Hand him the drugged cup- Drink the un-drugged cup- He feels safer now- He feels obliged as well- He sleeps- I find out if the drug works or not- Worst case scenario: the drug doesn't work and he tries another- Best: it does and I give him drug nightly.'

Sherlock watched John tentatively for hours, their faces dimly lit by the telly on mute. "Please work. Please no more nightmares. Please." John's mouth was gaping open, nose fluttering with every loud snore, the occasional twitch, no mumbling, no crying, no kicking or thrashing, not a single sign of a nightmare. Yes.

And then Sherlock had to open his big fat mouth the next morning.

"It seems the drug worked, you showed no physical indications of a nightmare occurring and you snored like a pig. I'll collect a good supply of it so that you may use it repeatedly until they are no longer needed." John stared at Sherlock from across the table. Sherlock never looked up, continued eating his breakfast in silence, took a sip from his drink and paused when he realized what he had just done.

"Sherlock." John's voice was low and dangerous. "Did Did you ?" Sherlock slowly set the cup down and cleared his throat.

"John, I can explain. I just wanted you to sleep without a nightmare, I had to get you to at least try it, how could I possibly record the results if I were asleep as well?" John took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Did you ever even use the damned thing on yourself or was that a lie too? And don't you dare lie to me now."

"Yes, yes I did, and it worked. I just wanted to know if it'd be enough for your nightmares. I promise." John continued to stare out the window in the kitchen in silence before clearing his throat.

"Right. Fine. I understand. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to punish you Sherlock." John rolled his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair. "Only two months back from the dead and you're already making me wish you'd stayed in hiding."

Sherlock didn't take it personally. He knew what John had meant.

John had hidden Sherlock's violin and bow and cleaned out the kitchen, dumping all experiments in the trash outside and stocking all equipment in places unknown to their owner.

That- he so VERILY took personally.


End file.
